Hidden Sorrows
by MashPotatoeSquishBanana
Summary: Annabeth Chase is the ultimate bad girl at Goode. She drowns her hidden sorrows with constant drinking and partying. But what's the reason behind it? Percy Jackson is the boy everyone shuns because he has to work at a local nightclub to eat on a daily basis. When Percy and Annabeth form an uncanny relationship, will Percy be able to save Annabeth from herself before it's too late?
1. Prologue

**Hi guys. Welcome to my newest story! I have high expectations for this one, and I hope it turns out better than my last story, An Eternity of Solitude. **

**Just a few key pointers: Hidden Sorrows is rated M. I repeat, RATED M! That means that there will be adult themes in here, as well as drug use, possibly swearing, some violence.**

**If you are under twelve, I suggest you don't read this story. If there is an M scene coming up, I will warn you at the beginning of the chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Rick Riordan owns most of the characters, but the plot is all mine.**

**Umm… that's pretty much it, I think. Here goes!**

**Chapter 1:**

**Prologue**

The music blasting out of the speakers nearly tore Percy's brain in half. It rattled his eyes in his head, and gave him a ringing sound in his ears. But he _was _sitting practically on top of the main DJ sound board, so that could have contributed to the bone- rattling effect.

For as long as he could remember, Percy had been working in cheap, rundown places to earn some coin. His aging mother had been diagnosed with a severe case of Alzheimer's dementia, and was useless around the house. It was up to Percy to rent shelter for them, keep food on the table, pay the electricity and water bills, look after his mother, and still go to school.

So he was stuck working as a DJ in this shady nightclub, where he got to go temporarily deaf every night, help drunk and stoned teenagers out the door every morning and cleanup other people's trash. At least the pay was good. About fifteen bucks an hour. If he worked all night, from ten through till five, he earned $120 a night. That left only a few more problems: he got no sleep, and he still had to go to school. More often than not, he found himself at the principal's office for falling asleep in class. Once, he accidentally fell asleep on the toilet. The janitor found him like that about two hours after school had ended, bent over himself with his pants still down, and he was late to work that night. $30 bucks had been cut off his pay check, and him and his mum had gone without food for two days while he worked extra hard to gain that $30 back.

Percy twisted the volume knob slightly on his soundboard, and the music eased up a little; his poor ears were ringing so bad.

He rested his head on his hand and surveyed the dance floor tiredly, slightly bored. That is, until he heard shouting over the blaring music; saw somebody fall to the floor. He relied on pure instinct only as he jumped up, and ran to the scene of the accident to see what he could do to help.

* * *

"Hey, baby!" a harsh voice whispered in Annabeth's ear. She whipped her head up and squinted at the figure. Her head spun from the sudden movement; a sure sign that she was drunk.

She stood, catching myself on some random person's arm when she stumbled.

"Hmm?" she slurred, her brain slow and clumsy.

"Dance with me, baby," the voice murmured.

"Uh, okay."

She soon realised who it was— her boyfriend Luke Castellan. Soon to be ex- boyfriend. She was over him, and his raucous actions, and his over- bearing needs.

Besides, she was looking forward to something new, a bit of excitement.

Luke placed his hands on Annabeth's bony hips and hauled her forwards, so that the two were pressed tight against each other. She could feel his excitement through his jeans.

A loud, pounding song with a strong beat came on, blasting through the speakers and drowning out all sound. Luke ground himself against her. She felt a slight surge of indignation at his expectations of her, so she pushed him away. But he held onto her, and yanked her onto the dance floor, where he started swaying erotically against her.

Disgust was all she felt. Drunk as a pig, he was, and she was not in the mood for what he wanted. She pushed him away again, and stepped back.

"No, Luke," Annabeth said frostily. "We're done, okay? I don't want this anymore."

Luke stood there in a daze, staring heavily at his now ex girlfriend, lids hooded; lips blue from all the alcohol he'd consumed that night.

"You're breaking up with me?" he asked incredulously.

"Yup," Annabeth nodded, surprised at how easy that went down. But she'd thought too soon.

Because just then, Luke's fist reached out and connected with her cheek bone. She shouted in pain, and stumbled backwards, tripping over someone's feet and landing on her back.

She looked up to see Luke's furious face above her, and she suddenly wished that the floor would swallow her so that she wouldn't have to die tonight.

* * *

Percy could not believe it. Right there, in the flesh, was his school's Queen Slut Annabeth Chase, and her no- good boyfriend Luke Castellan.

Except something was wrong.

They weren't making out, or feeling each other up.

Annabeth was on the floor, her face puffy and bruised, and Luke was swaying on his feet, yelling nonsense at her in his drunken state.

Percy didn't think before he leaped forward and smacked Luke in the nose, leaning down to help Annabeth up. Luke staggered backwards, and fell to the floor, out cold.

"Hey!" Percy yelled at the dazed girl in his arms, making himself heard over the pounding stereo above them. "Are you okay?"

"What?" Annabeth screamed back. "Who are you?!"

"Doesn't matter who I am! Are you okay?"

"Of course I am, dumbass! I just got punched in the face by my boyfriend! What do you think?"

_And why does it not surprise me that even when she's just been physically abused and she's drunk out of her mind, she can still find the energy to yell at me?_

"Do you need an escort out the door?" Percy asked, his lips at her ear so that she could hear him.

Annabeth ripped herself from his grip. "I don't need anything," she muttered almost inaudibly, and Percy's over- worked ears had to work hard to make out what she had said. And without further ado, she stormed towards the door (Percy marvelled at how she could still stomp in those high, high heels she wore), not once looking back.

**How was that for a start? Are you looking forward to the next chapter? Please tell me in a review what you think, and whether you think I should continue!**

**Thanks for reading,**

**MashPotatoeSquishBanana**


	2. Respective Fake

**Hey! Thanks for all the lovely, supportive reviews, guys! **

**Chapter 2:**

**Respective Fake**

**Percy POV (a couple of weeks ago)**

I don't expect people to love me; heck, I don't even care whether they like me or not. Hate me all you want. I'm a pessimistic, sullen person who people tend to chafe at when in my company.

I don't expect people to like me; I do, however, expect people to respect me.

I feel like shouting this at the group of populars who sit behind me in calculus, chucking bits of screwed up paper with hurtful comments written on them at me.

Sorry, I'd better introduce myself before I start the usual rant about my disgust for the group of phonies behind me.

I am a boy. I have black hair. I have green eyes. I am pale, skinny, a weakling, blah blah blah. That's right: I'm Percy Jackson, Goode High School's own personal circus freak!

At least, that's what Luke Castellan, the most egotistical, steroid pumped jerk you'll ever meet, says. Him and his clique of daft cronies, Ethan Nakamura and Chris Rodriguez, are the banes of my existence. They torture me every day, physically, mentally, emotionally. They are constantly at me. Luke had a personal vendetta against me, and I have no idea why.

His girlfriend and her minions were even worse. Because, where Luke could control anyone with his vile tongue and his huge muscles, Annabeth held the entire social hierarchy in her fist. One word from her, and a person who had been her best friend a second ago would become the target of everyone's loathing.

They hate me. Everybody hates me. I'm not a particularly hateful person. Just that Annabeth has decided to hate me, and everyone hangs on her every word. They wouldn't if they had grown up with her. If they had seen her at her worst.

I grew up with her; we were never friends. But we didn't hate each other, either. We coincidentally attended the same junior school, Yancy Academy. She used to be tolerable; a bit of a stingy prude, too uptight, had to have her nose in everyone's business. Little Miss Know It All. But she was tolerable.

Now, she's unbearable. I don't know what happened on those holidays, on that tiny break between junior and high school. I do, however, know that something big happened in her life. I know it was probably something really bad; people don't change so drastically for no reason.

Now I just have to find out _what the hell _happened to make her go from Goody Two Shoes, to Bad Ass Slut.

* * *

**Annabeth POV (present)**

The teacher is droning on about something. I'm not listening. I'm too busy thinking about what happened last night. I must have applied half a tub of foundation to my face this morning, trying to hide the big ugly black bruise that had formed over my right eye overnight. It still looked horrible. My normally grey iris was red, and the skin around it puffy. Luke really knew how to pack a punch; I felt sorry for all the kids who had been at his fist's cruel mercy before.

At lunch, I had found a quiet, serene corner of the school where I sat huddled, locked in my own private little world, my face hidden by my long hair that fell in perfect blond ringlets, glaring sullenly at my small lunch of salsa salad.

Oh, what I would have done for a hamburger right then. Or crispy, salty, greasy, fatty potato chips. Or— _stop it, _I thought. _You're only torturing yourself. _

The other part of me hissed: _no, depriving yourself of these delicacies is what is torture. There is absolutely nothing stopping you from marching right over to the cafeteria and buying a plate of chips._

I know I'm anorexic. I know I'm underweight. I am too deep into the habit of depriving myself of nutrients; it literally hurt for me to swallow a sip of coke. It's just so loaded with carbohydrates, and glucagon— _stop it, _I thought. _You sound like a nerd. _

I hug myself tighter, trying to stop the trembling that had overtaken my body.

Images of a little blond haired girl with braces and pig tails, in a lavender and apple green dress, holding a stack of books in her hand crowd behind my eyes, giving me a splitting headache.

_The little girl is sitting in a corner, much like the one that I'm sitting in now. She has a book in her lap, glasses on her nose, and she holds a half eaten ham and cheese sandwich in her right hand. Her jeans are faded, there are holes at the knees; her light grey sweater is plain, stained and too large for her skinny frame. Her blond curls are pulled into a messy ponytail, with curling strands falling out and framing her childishly cute face._

_Then the big boys come. They laugh cruelly. They kick her book and sandwich away, and haul her up by her armpits. Her glasses are knocked off her head, and one boy stamps on them with his heavy boots, leaving them a crumpled, crooked wire frame with shattered glass. Now that I think of it, much like my life._

_The little girl just stands there, crying and screaming litanies that a girl of her age shouldn't have possessed. The boys are just laughing as they stomp her lunch to bits and rip the pages out of her book, which happens to be her very favourite, and one of the only things that triggered good memories of her childhood. _

_The hair band is ripped out of her hair, and her blond curls tumble into disarray. The boy who has a grip on her throws her to the ground, and as the boys leave her sobbing, the one who destroyed her book chucks the cover down, and leaves with his friends._

_The girl crawls over to the ruined cover of her book, and cradles the dear, familiar title to her heart._

I don't realise that there are tears running down my face until I brush my hair out of my eyes, and my finger tips are wet. I wipe my face with my sleeve and curl in on myself, wanting to finally break down. But other people enter the classroom, and I roll behind the desk, where I am content to stay forever, curled in on myself; here I can remove my mask; here I can just be myself and not worry about whether the next thing that comes out of my mouth will get me kicked out of the It Crowd.

As I lay under the desk, I let myself think about my little horrific day dream. Or, daymare, I guess you could say. The horror story that used to be my life.

And the book that was so brutally mutilated that day, that I still have hidden away somewhere in the top of my closet. The title comes to me, as well as a stab of agony.

_The Tales of Peter Pan. _

How I used to wish that I could just add a little fairy dust, and off I could fly to another world where you were accepted no matter you were like.

But I've changed now. My life has changed. Everything's changed.

For the better.

I suddenly sit up and wipe my eyes that had begun smarting again. I'm already over my little pity party, and there's work to do and people to impress. I sneak out of the classroom and plant a fake smile on my fake, made up face, and stride out the doors into the school grounds with a fake gait of confident pride, into my little circle of fake friends, where I put on a fake persona, so easy to slip into that it scared me shitless.

**Please don't forget to review— they make me happy :)**


	3. The Colour Grey

**Hello, I'm sorry I took so long to update! I've been so busy lately. I typed this up when I was on vacation, and I'm back now so I can post!**

**Chapter 3:**

**The Colour Grey **

"Percy Jackson," Mrs Dodds, my pre algebra teacher calls out.

I lift my head from my desk and blink, disorientated. I know I must have fallen asleep again. "Here," I slur, then place my head back on the desk.

"If you had been _awake_, Mr Jackson, you would be aware that the roll was called twenty minutes ago." Some kids behind me snicker. I can feel my face beginning to heat up when I sit up again.

"I'm afraid, Mr Jackson, that if this happens again, I'm going to have to send you to the principal's office. If this recurring cycle of disrespectful behaviour continues any longer, you will be granted a three- day suspension. If you reach three suspensions, you will be expelled from Goode."

That's when I start to panic. I can't get expelled from this school; no matter how mean some kids are here, it is by far the best school I've ever attended, and if I am forced to leave this school, I'll have to start looking for schools in Brooklyn, or Philadelphia. Yeah, I've been expelled from all the schools I can find in Manhattan, _and _New York, either from bad behaviour, or, like in Goode, dysfunctional sleep or nutrient patterns that have affected my schooling.

"I'm sorry, Miss," I say, trying to look sincere. "It won't happen again."

Mrs Dodds just rolls her eyes and calls on someone else.

I start to doze off again when something hits me on the back of the head. I sit erect and whip my head around to see Annabeth Chase and a couple of her cronies giggling.

"Seriously?" I whisper- yell to them. "Could you guys get _any _more immature?"

"Oh, and _you're _so mature, are you?" Annabeth raises an eyebrow, and I can't argue. I'm not the most responsible guy in the world; I can admit that. At least I don't throw things at people just to get a laugh. I must have said something out loud, because then Annabeth leans forward, and says, "What?"

Then Mrs Dodds has to walk down the aisle between us and slap her metre ruler down on my desk. I jump, startled at the sudden noise. "Mr Jackson, Miss Chase!" she yells.

I turn my head slightly to the side to avoid getting spit on. When Mrs Dodds is mad, her saliva gun tends to go off like crazy.

"Yes, Miss?" Annabeth asks sweetly, looking the perfect picture of innocence.

"This is the third time this week that you two have disrupted my class with your constant chatter! Please, save it for the cafeteria."

"Oh, but Miss, Percy stole my maths text book! He also ripped out one of my pages and crumpled it, then threw it at me!"

I roll my eyes. "I assure you, Annabeth, I haven't stolen anything from you, nor would I want to—"

"Liar!" she cries. "Check the name sticker!" _Name sticker? Seriously? And this is coming from the girl that calls _me_ a stupid no- brain._

Mrs Dodds sighs. "If this is another one of your practical jokes, Annabeth—"

"It's not!" Annabeth throws a smirk at me, and I frown at her. What is she up to?

Mrs Dodds strides over and picks up my maths text book, flipping through it to find the 'name sticker'. She must have found it because she smacks it down on my desk with the cover open.

My mouth falls open in shock.

Because where my name is supposed to be reads:

_Annabeth Chase_

In curlicue writing, nonetheless.

"Percy Jackson," Mrs Dodds seethes. "I'm sick of all your lying and falling asleep in class, and your excuses for your behaviour. Please report to the principal's office, where I'm sure he will have some menial task for you to complete."

I slump in my seat as I pack my bag. Kids are openly snickering as I make my way out of the classroom, trying to keep the dejected look off my face and keep my dignity intact.

I smirk as I hear Mrs Dodds' voice behind me saying, "And any more words out of _you_, Miss Chase, and I won't hesitate to make you join Mr Jackson."

* * *

"Hey, mum," I say dully as I cross the threshold of my dingy house. Sometimes I actually prefer school to home. At least there's light at school. At least there's people to talk to, even if it's not amiable speech.

"Oh, hello sweetie!" My mother calls out. "I'm in the kitchen preparing dinner!"

_What?! _I think. My mother- preparing _dinner?_

I pretty much throw my ratty school bag down and sprint to the kitchen to see if she's started a fire yet.

As I enter the kitchen, a smell hits my nostrils and makes my mouth water. It's a scent I haven't smelled in… well, forever, really. It smells of home, of normalcy. Of loving parents who care, and innocence.

It's roast beef and vegies.

My stomach jumps into my throat. Hope fills my heart. Is my mum on the mend?

_"No cure."_

_"I'm sorry."_

_"Terminal illness."_

The doctor's words echo in my mind. Tears prick behind my eyelids.

"_No hope for the redemption of her health."_

I quickly wipe my eyes and paste a bright smile on my face. If my mum ever sees me cry, she'll start crying as well, and when she cries, her body gets stressed and things start going wrong. Sometimes she'll start hyperventilating, or even choking. Sometimes she'll break out in a cold sweat, or a roaring fever. Sometimes pass out.

It's better to just pretend.

* * *

After dinner, my mum asks me how school was today. I can't believe it. Just yesterday she was raving to me about 'oh, how handsome you are now, Poseidon!' (whoever he is) and now she's asking me how school is.

"Uh, well—" I can't tell her about Luke and Annabeth and everyone else. She'll freak. I grin widely. "School's great mum. Can I go to my room now? I have homework to do." Don't think I actually do homework normally. I'm just using it as an excuse to escape.

"Any girls caught your eye, Percy?" my mum teases. I feel my face heat up, but not from embarrassment. More like, _Yeah, right. Maybe in a blue moon, mum._ But she takes it the wrong way. "Ooh, what's her name? What does she look like?"

My mind goes blank. The only girl I can picture is Annabeth Chase, with her perfect blond tresses and her unblemished athletic body and her pretty grey eyes…

"Uh, no, I don't have a crush, mum," I say.

She looks dismayed for a minute, but then she brightens up. "Don't worry, Percy. There will be a girl somewhere that will touch your heart like you've never known. I'll bet you she's been there your entire life, right under your nose, and you just haven't discovered her yet!"

I smile and hug my mum, trying to forget what she just said. All I can picture is Annabeth Chase, and I want her _out _of my mind because I hate her and her impeccable image is about to ruin my good mood. "Thanks mum, I'll keep that in mind. I love you." I say through gritted teeth. The colour grey is crowding my vision, and I'm getting more pissed off by the second. I'm afraid that if I stay any longer in this room, I'll snap and take my frustrations out on my poor mother.

"I love you too, honey," she whispers, and I completely forget about Annabeth Chase for a second when hazy memories of another time, another place, a happier place, come to mind.

Maybe my mum will never be what she once was. Maybe she'll never recuperate to full health. But at least I know that in the midst of all the bad times and problems and worries and concerns, my mum can still just be my mum every once in a while.

**Do you like that? I know it's off to a slow start, but it'll get better, I promise. Don't forget to leave a review and tell me what you think! **


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